


Lua

by Emberglade



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Analysis, Friend Dynamics, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slight sexual assault, a guy gets pushy with richie but thats as far as descriptions go, bevs dad is a cuck bastard who i hate, i may expand on this with another chapter, implied rape, richie and bev are buddies and i love them, tagging this is so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberglade/pseuds/Emberglade
Summary: Richie Tozier and Beverly Marsh are close. They're close because of secrets.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 34





	Lua

“This one is the one, I can feel it!”  
Bev scoffed and turned the page of her comic. “What makes you so sure?” she asks. She doesn’t mean to sound cynical; It’s just difficult to sound optimistic when this is the 8th one this semester.  
“He doesn’t call me a fag.” Richie sits next to her on the wooden ledge in the hideout. Technically, they shouldn’t be there. It’s nearly 1 AM and, usually, hideouts and clubhouses are for groups, not two people. But Richie Tozier- gay boy in secret- and Beverly Marsh- the only one who knows about the gay boy’s secret- don’t abide by the rules.  
Beverly passes Richie her cigarette. He does his best to pretend he knows what he’s doing before passing it back to her, his lungs seizing under his facade. She pretends not to notice. Another one of their secrets.  
“So he doesn’t know the facts?” she laughs a puff of smoke away.  
“You know what I mean.” Richie’s hands grip the flakey wood under his rough, calloused hands. He leans forward on the shoddy bench. “He’s nice to me.” Dust flitted around the two of them, illuminated only by a single camping lamp Richie had stolen from his dad.  
“Richie, there aren’t that many gay boys in Derry. You know that.” She gives him a sympathetic glance, but the shorter boy barely even regards it.  
“How would you know?”  
He’d stoned up again. Arms crossed in front of his chest, he stared at the wall with an intensity unmatched by even the glares Eddie sent him when he said something crude about the asthmatic boy’s mother. Soft brown curls fell around his ears and forehead, unkempt.  
Bev felt a prick of guilt. But only a prick. She nudged his shoulder, the comic falling from her pasty knees to the dusty ground; It was almost guaranteed that it would be trampled on later. “Hey-” she scooted closer to him so he could rest his head on her shoulder like he did when he came out to her. “What’s he like?”  
Richie smiled. “Well…”

“You promise you’ll stay out of sight?”  
“Scouts honor. I’ll only make my presence known if shit hits the fan.”Bev put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ll kick any ass you need me to.”  
Richie squeezed her hand, pretending he didn’t need to look up at her. “Thanks.” He turned and walked out of the brush into the opening before the cliff dropped off into warm, green quarry water. Someone was already sitting by the edge. After last time, Bev wasn’t about to let Richie go out there alone.  
He’d been talking to Johnny for maybe three weeks now. It had started with “I like your socks” and slowly devolved into “You have Ziggy Stardust on Vinyl?” to “so do you like boys?”, and honestly- Richie felt really, really good about this one. There was no way Johnny was going to be like Callum. Or Roger. Or- he shook his head. None of those thoughts here.  
Wind whipped his wavy hair back, and the cold smell of water washed his thoughts clean. The quarry made soft, splashing sounds below, and Richie felt his nerves get washed away.  
Johnny had a strong jawline, and a thick, heavy nose that broke free from his face. His eyes were a heavy, deep brown and his hair was long, dangling in thin tresses across his face. He looked like a model. His skin was pearly white, with a dashing birthmark on his neck. He smiled red-hot in the cold moonlight.  
“Richie!” An upperclassman, his voice was thick and matured. It made Richie melt just hearing it.  
“Johnny,” Richie smiled and rubbed the back of his head. “Hey…”  
Johnny smiled and put his hand on Richie’s jawline. “Hey.” He was significantly taller than Richie- not like that was difficult to achieve- and he could feel himself turn beet red.  
Another hand snaked around his waist, and confusion crawled up his throat. Weren’t they going to sit by the cliff’s edge? His head was tilted forcibly backwards.  
And like that- lips were pressed against his own, red hot and wet. But he didn’t fully process it until they’d parted. And before he could get any words in, they were back, this time with tongue dancing along the edges of his lip. He put his hands up on Johnny's firm chest in an attempt to push him away. But the arm around his neck and on his chin was determined.  
They parted, and this time Richie said something. “Johnny this isn’t what I-”  
And their lips were together again, this time for so long Richie was convinced he was going to pass out. When they parted all he could blurt out was a soft “No.”  
Fingers were dancing at the edge of his Elmo shirt. He gripped the wrists and tried to hold them back, but it was futile. Still connected at the mouth, Richie could do little more than flail and let out little protests. He felt red-hot with shame. This was moving too fast, and now he was trapped.  
He just wanted to talk.  
“Please don’t-”  
“Shut up. You want this.” Johnny growled before thrusting his hands up Richie’s shirt. The freshman could feel tears crawling up his throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.  
A loud crack jolted him out of his thoughts, paired with the stuttering of Johnny’s hands. Bev stood behind him with a large branch in her hands.  
“Hey asshole,” she swung the branch once more at him, knocking Johnny slightly off balance and sending him petering to the side. “He said ‘No’.” Something blazed in her eyes, unparalleled by anything Richie had seen before. Gratitude swelled in his chest, and he scooched away from Johnny to stand by her.  
Johnny spit into the dirt. “Fuck you,” he hissed, “We all know the little perv wanted it.”  
Beverly laughed and hoisted the branch again, just in case. Her arms betrayed her feminine frame in her t-shirt, bicep muscles bulging. “Did you, Rich?” She looked to her friend, pasted to her side like one of those long, sticky hands.  
He shook his head, afraid if he opened his mouth again lips would press into it and he’d be even more invaded.  
“No, I didn’t think so.” She scoffed. “C’mon, Richie, let’s go.”  
“See you Monday, Hose-head!” Johnny called after them as Beverly gripped Richie by the shoulder and led him away.  
They biked in silence, Richie sitting on the back of Bev’s like he had on the way to the quarry. The boy gripped her waist, head pressed into her back while hot tears fell into her t-shirt.  
“Why didn’t he stop?” he croaked, halfway to his house.  
“Sometimes they don’t. Some guys just take what they want.” Her voice tinkled with malice.  
“I don’t wanna be like that. That felt bad.”  
Beverly hummed. “Good. Love shouldn’t be about making the other person feel bad.”  
Richie thought a moment before speaking up. The bumping of the gravel under Bev’s bike shook his brain a little.“Has someone ever made you feel like that?” he felt fiercely protective for a moment, hands gripping into her dress, and he wondered if that’s what Beverly felt for him a moment ago. Wondered if that’s why her eyes gleamed the way they did.  
She didn’t say anything more the rest of the bike home. After making sure Richie got in his house safe and sound, she biked off. Richie watched her fuzzy white dot get smaller and smaller from his bedroom window, playing with his glasses in his shaking hands.

Beverly fell into Richie’s arms, a sobbing mess. The rest of the losers watched them both with a mixture of jealousy and fascination. It had been a regular Tuesday all the way up until Beverly had arrived between second and third period, tears rolling down her face.  
She gripped his small shoulders, burying her face in his neck, and Richie reached up to hold on to her around the waist while she fell apart. It looked almost routine. To an outsider, one may even consider them lovers.  
The ginger whispered into his ear, unaware or uncaring of their audience. “It happened again.”  
Richie tightened his grip- mostly out of fury- but loosened it immediately when she winced and sucked air in through her teeth. “How bad?” he whispered back.  
“I feel sick. It hurts, I can barely move. I think he- I- broke something.”  
Another surge of fury washed over Richie, but this time he was careful not to hurt Beverly. “We can ditch to take care of it.”  
“Please.”  
They parted, only to notice their audience. Stanley was, while predominantly uninterested in Richie’s bullshit, giving them both a concerned, almost Mother Hen-esque look. Eddie looked equally, if not, more worried, whereas Mike and Ben were struggling to keep their jaws attached to their faces. Richie and Beverly would need to weasel out of this one good.  
“Richie leant me a movie last night.” Beverly supplied, taking a shaky step away from her secret best friend.  
“A sad one.” He helpfully supplied.  
No one believed them, but it didn’t matter. The bell rang for the next period.  
As the crowd around them surged, hurrying to get to their next class, Beverly and Richie stole away to the bike stands near the side of the school, where he made her get on his bike as to avoid over-exerting her. The sophomore pedaled as fast as he could to get her home, ditching his bike by the side of the house and unlocking the front door with the key he wore around his neck. Beverly was silent the whole time.  
She immediately went upstairs to his room while he got her a glass of water. When he found her, she was sitting on his bed tenderly feeling her ribs. Richie closed the door, merely out of habit as no one was home, and reached under his bed for The Kit.  
Beverly drank the water with no resistance, setting the cup on his floor. “Where does it hurt?”  
“My ribs. And my back. And my…” she clamped her legs together and swallowed something. Richie felt fiery anger run down his spine and through his hands.  
“Bastard.”  
“Bastard,” she echoed softly.  
“May I?” Richie gestured to her dress. She nodded, so he began to shakily unclasp the back around her head, giving her enough time to push him away if needed. She didn’t.  
He helped her stand up so he could take it off, having the modesty to not gawk. Bev balanced on his shoulder as she stepped out of the floral dress and kicked it away, as if it had been burning her skin. He helped her sit back down and crouched to look at her ribs.  
Pale, freckled flesh was adorned with a myriad of sickly purple-and-red bruises. He felt himself swallow whatever Beverly had earlier. A few scrapes were present on her stomach, a reminder of falling down, or perhaps fingernails. He looked at her back to see if it was any worse. A lash rest between her shoulder blades, in a long thin strip that told of a leather belt, or maybe it’s buckle. More scrapes and flowering bruises, but overall nothing he could fix. He stood back in front of her. “You don’t appear to be dying…” he said in a mock doctorly tone.  
“I wish I was.” Bev coughed into her arm. “Anything’s better than this.”  
“Did he…” Richie trailed off, looking down at her.  
“The day he doesn’t, I’ll tell you Rich. I give you my word.”  
Richie frowned. Hard. “Maybe-”  
“Telling anyone would be useless. No one cares, anyways.”  
“I care. The losers care-”  
“No one who can help.” And as much as it hurt, it was true. And Richie knew it.  
Bev spent that day in Richie’s room, laying in one of his t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts from when he was probably nine or ten. He’d outgrown them, but they slipped over her legs way too easily. After an hour, Richie asked if she was hungry.  
“I don’t know…”  
“When did you last eat?”  
She was silent. Richie got up without further discussion and came back with a box of Hi-C. He handed it to her and sat back down. She didn’t touch it.  
“Just the juice. That’s all I ask.” she drank it without much resistance at that point. Probably because he used his softer voice. The one that he kept low low down in his chest and never showed when it was light out. He only used it when he really needed something. And he really needed this.

“What if he thinks I’m gross?”  
“Rich, he already thinks you’re gross.” Beverly rummaged through the brown paper bag in her arms and thrust a can of Coke into her friend’s hands. He opened it without hesitation, brown fizz spilling over the edge of the can and dripping down his fingers. He licked them up, even though they were covered in dust, forcing Beverly to cringe. “See, like that. He already thinks that doing that is gross.” She pulled out a juice and cracked open the lid for herself.  
“Maybe, but-” Richie was interrupted from his anxieties by voices calling out to them. The two turned around.  
The rest of the gang hurried to catch up with the two, who shared a remorseful glance before pasting on white smiles.  
Ben panted, viciously. “Guys! Hey. Hi. Hello.” He sucked in puffs of air every word.  
Bill and Eddie caught up last, strolling at moderate paces. Eddie looked at Richie with pure scrutiny. “We called your house five or six times, asshole! Pick up the phone so we don’t have to talk to your mom!” Richie chuckled and shrugged.  
“I was out.”  
“Clearly.” Bill said it with so much bite, Richie might as well have recoiled. “H- Have you guys been h- h- having fun?”  
Beverly shrugged. She held up the bag in her arms. “You want some gummy bears?”

Eddie rolled over in his bed to look at Richie, sprawled out on his floor holding a comic above his face. “So…”  
Richie rested the comic on his chest. “Yeah?”  
“Do you have a girlfriend?”  
“Nah. None of the girls in Derry are good enough for me. Yet.” He held the comic back up, primarily to hide the insidious look in his eyes. “Except for, maybe… your mom…”  
Eddie mimed a gagging motion while Richie giggled hysterically from his floor. “One more joke about my mom and I won’t give you a blanket tonight.”  
“Ooooh noooo Eddie spaghetti you would never!”  
“I will.” he mumbled, deadpan.  
“Then I guess I’ll just have to crawl up into bed with you.” Richie feigned agony, as if the very idea made him want to peel off his skin.  
“You could.”  
“What?”  
“We’ve shared a bed before. If you’re uncomfortable on the floor-”  
“Eds I was kidding.”  
“Oh.”  
A long pause.  
“But do you?”  
“Do I what?”  
“Have a girlfriend?”  
“What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”  
“Well- I mean- You and Bev-” Eddie bumbled over his own words.  
Richie laughed. “Bev and I are just friends.”  
“Are you sure? I mean…”  
The brunette turned back to his fine literature. “Yeah. We’re just good friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah im projecting eat my ass  
> if u think of any tags this needs lmk PLEASE


End file.
